


Daisy

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Bilbo, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippet of later in the Shire, where Bofur loves his cute wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “fluffy, sweet Boffins with fem!Bilbo” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23481300#t23481300).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

This time, Bilbo walks right to the door to shout, “Bofur!” out across the walkway, because her silly husband never answered the first two times. She’s still wiping her hands off on her apron, having gotten crumbs across her fingers from taking the pie out of the oven, as she leans over to try and spot him. Finally, he shows up from around the gardens, smiling bright as the sun. 

Mainly so she won’t have to see his big boots stomping through her nice begonias, Bilbo turns back into the house to wait for him. By the time he’s through the door, she’s cleaned her palms off, though she’ll have to do a wash after dinner to take care of this apron. Not to mention his grass-stained trousers and his hat. She keeps telling him not to wear something so heavy in the sun, lest it sweat, but of course, he doesn’t listen. He just sings or tells her how pretty she is, and she forgets completely, until the next time they’re kissing and she has to figure out where the stench is coming from. 

When Bofur comes inside, he has his hands out stretched. This is nothing new, and Bilbo automatically steps towards him, expecting the usual kiss and hug and maybe a little slap to her rear, but she stops when she realizes he’s holding something. Draped between his fingers is a long circlet of flowers, all different sorts from across her gardens, the green stems skillfully woven together like only a toy-maker could do. Looking down at it, she asks, “What’ve you made?”

“A flower crown,” he announces proudly, like this is perfectly commonplace. Having seen all manner of crowns in Erebor, Bilbo doesn’t think this looks like much of one. For one thing, it has no jewels, and for another, it’s somewhat floppy, instead of structured and imposing like a proper gold or silver one. In some ways, Bofur has fit rather nicely into the Shire. But in others... his adjustments can be odd.

After a bit of staring, she decides, “That’s ridiculous, and anyway, you shouldn’t be picking my flowers like that.” Bofur just grins through his thick mustache, ignoring her fussiness like always. 

He lifts the wreath to place on her head, nestling it down into her golden curls, and then he pulls back to put his hands on his hips and admire her. She does her best not to fall victim to his radiant charm, but it’s difficult when he sighs, “You’re beautiful.” He says it so _sincerely_ , even after all these years, and sometimes she thinks of the excitable young dwarf who first stumbled through her door to sing great songs and encourage her whenever she felt down, and it seems he hasn’t changed a day. 

By the time he bends down to kiss her cheek, Bilbo’s blushing hotly. She lets him linger against her face, the scruff of his beard tickling her jaw, and then she pushes lightly at his chest. “Oh, go sit down before your dinner gets cold.”

Instead of leaving, he throws his thick arms around her waist and hikes her easily into the air. Bilbo gasps, even though he’s picked her up many times, professing it very easy. She drops her hands to his broad shoulders, and he draws her up tight against him, so her feet are lifted off the floor and they’re nose to nose. Grinning, he coos, “Can I eat you up instead?”

Bilbo could slap him for being so silly. But she just _loves_ him too much, and she winds up melting in his arms. Her hands are cupping his scruffy face before she can stop them, her head tilting to connect their mouths. Her arms slip around his neck, and she kisses him, sweet and warm, with just a little bit of wet tongue and a little scrape of teeth. 

When she’s done, he rubs his big nose against hers. It’s so endearing that when she chides, “Put me down and hop to it,” she doesn’t really mean it at all. She adds more sincerely, “I want to keep your tummy nice and healthy.”

He does finally head to the table. But he hikes her up again before he does it, catching her legs, and he carries her there like a brand new bride.


End file.
